Maggie’s head jerked up at that, surprise written all over her face. She met his eye, and something crackled between them. The air seemed to grow thicker, making it harder for Neil to draw breath.
Abruptly, he rose to his feet, breaking their gaze. The air seemed cooler and thinner when he stood, as if being in proximity to Maggie had brought him inside some strange new magnetic field.
“Well,” Lady Constance said at last, her voice tight. It was the only word she seemed capable of finding.
With the handkerchief tied tight across Emma’s palm, Maggie sat back on her heels.
“Does it hurt? Have you hurt yourself anywhere else?” Maggie asked, her voice soft.
Emma shook her head. Tearstains streaked her cheeks, but her sobs had subsided.
“It’s sore,” she ventured, then frowned up at Lady Constance.
Lady Constance bent down, all grace and silk ruffles, and pressed a hand to her heart.
“You must be his Grace’s little niece,” she cooed. “What a sweet creature you are! I amsoglad to meet you.”
Emma scowled. “You pushed me over.”
Maggie winced. Lady Constance flushed scarlet.
“Accidentally,” she snapped. “I did not mean it.”
“It was an accident, Emma,” Neil said gently. “You must forgive Lady Constance. She is a good friend of Aunt Harriet’s.”
Emma brightened. “Am I to see Aunt Harriet?”
“Very soon. Now, let me see that hand.”
Emma held it up obediently. The bleeding had stopped. Neil lifted it and pressed a gentle kiss to the palm.
“There,” he said. “That will mend soon enough.”
“Generally, your Grace,” Miss Winter said, smiling, “we tell children it will be better in a moment, whether or not we believe it.”
Neil met her gaze. “I prefer to be truthful, Miss Winter.”
Her smile deepened; she pressed her fingers briefly to her lips to hide a laugh. Lady Constance coughed sharply.
“I think I should like to return to the house, your Grace,” she announced.
Neil was about to encourage her to do just that when he remembered that she would expect him to escort her. Smothering a sigh, he nodded.
“Go on,” he told Emma. “Have that tended to properly, and I’ll see you later. Take care of her, Miss Winter.”
He turned to escort Lady Constance, but Emma’s voice stopped him.
“You and Maggie take care of me better than anyone, Uncle. You’re just like a real Mama and Papa.”
A silence fell, heavy and unbroken. Lady Constance’s fingers dug into his arm. Maggie bent her head, hiding her face.
“You mustn’t say that, Miss Emma,” Maggie whispered. “It is a very kind thing, but I am not your Mama.”
“I didn’t say youwere,” Emma retorted stoutly. “I said you arelikemy Mama.”
Lady Constance’s nails bit into his sleeve.
“I really would like to go in, your Grace,” she said tightly, her sweetness gone.
